Midnight. Pine needles crunch under bare feet. Sarah’s fingers tremble against the closet door.
“What’s this?”
The overhead light snaps on. Her mother stands in the doorway, prayer mat dangling from one hand. The Christmas tree’s lights cast dancing shadows across her face.
“First you won’t sing carols. Then you hide a… a mat? Are they radicalizing you online?”
Sarah’s Quran shifts under her pillow. Her mother’s face twists – the same expression Jenny wore in the breakroom yesterday when Sarah declined the office Christmas party.
“Even our Pride Club president is coming!” Jenny had chirped, adjusting her “Love Is Love” pin. “We celebrate everyone here!”
Everyone except the girl stepping away to pray Dhuhr during lunch time.
“Look at Ira with his Star of David sweater,” they say. “Look at Rachel with her Wiccan crystals,” they say. “How brave! How authentic!”
But Sarah declining to shake men’s hands? Her hijab? “Concerning.” “Old fashioned.” “Extreme.”
They celebrate the ugly ogre who finds love. They cheer the misfit who saves Christmas.
But a Muslim who holds the line in his or her deen? Silence
Well, they can kick rocks, I say!
Sarah’s fingers trace the edge of her sketchbook. Inside, a warrior rises from the pages – his sword gleaming with conviction, his values a crown instead of a curse.
View The Lesser Evil Trailer – Where Our Heroes Stand Tall
Because while they hang their tinsel, we sharpen our swords.
-Wes
P.S. The presses are rolling, and the books are on their way to life, inshAllah. Every copy undergoes meticulous quality checks—because anything less than perfection would be an injustice to the premium stories and exquisite art within. Excellence deserves no compromise.
